IN LOVING MEMORY OF WALEED F. HELWANI

Death does not speak my language
But I believe tears are universal.
So why then do I keep screaming and wailing
Till my body's aching and failing
I'm a child once again, throwing tantrums
Hearing my heart beat through my ears like wild drums
Yet my brother responds not to my call?

The image I grew accustomed to
Has all too soon been depressed to a blotch
The unforeseen stranger stole from our hearts and our homes
And all we could do was watch.

I wish I could speak death's tongue
So I could plead for second, third and perhaps even fourth chances
So I could translate into it the grievances
Of the old and the young
The large, the little
The weak and the strong.
I wish I could offer it all; these possessions
These earthly obsessions
And all I do not lack
So maybe, just maybe oblivion could bring him back.

I take reluctant steps into reality
Greeted by 4-sided murals of spoken words and deeds;
Portraits of days past stamped with authenticity
An array of memories intertwined with eternity.
Still I stand before flashbacks when it begins to dawn
Art remains art even after the painter's gone.